


Moonlight sonata

by jarofactonbell



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Can I Do The Tagging? Definitively Not, Fantasy AU - Fairies and Elves, M/M, Soft Gay Hair Braiding - deserves its own tag, also a poet, and a playwright, felix in full body armour with a kitsune mask, felix is terrifying but he is very soft in front of one han jisung, for the september twins, he is good at everything and he's here to have all the jobs, honestly who isn't, jisung as a musician, me too felix, wow did i say i love anime aesthetics? i do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 09:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15992687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofactonbell/pseuds/jarofactonbell
Summary: Elflock(n.) a word that describes tangled hair, as if matted by elves





	Moonlight sonata

**Author's Note:**

> Everything happened in this order of consequence:  
> \- I saw this word 'elflock' on my Pinterest, yesterday afternoon  
> \- My lizard brain thought 'hmm, wouldn't it be cool if Jisung is an Elf'  
> \- I messaged Lauren who approved of this concept  
> \- Somehow that spiralled into me screaming at her about September twins and my fic for them centred around a fantasy theme  
> -Lauren offered to illustrate  
> \- Our minds are powerful together, okay  
> \- Here we are  
> This was a bad surmising of what actually went down in the chat between me and Lauren but hey, one day we'll see the conversation that enabled this collaboration to happen - [brain meme](https://twitter.com/jarofactonbell/status/1040797749854142464)
> 
> Art by the lovely and ever radiant and responsive [Lauren](https://twitter.com/iIuminho)

 

 

> _Elflock -_ (n.) a word that describes tangled hair, as if matted by elves

 

Nobody knows who he is - or from which grove he crawled forth from.  

A warrior in battle - the most fearsome - hair matted and tangled with the ruinations of those who did not share his loyalties. The war cries he emits mid-fight, the thunder on earth -

Oh it is enough to strike absolute and acute terror into the hearts of fainter souls.

Drip.

Drop.

Goes the wringing of mud and blood from knotted hair.

They call him _Eldritch_ \- a force unnatural and otherworldly, even standing by those of the Unseelie Court.

And so it goes.

 

≿————-　❈　————-≾

 

Everybody knows who Jisung is - the bard, the playwright, the minstrel - everything enchanting and breathless and eternal - dancing between the veils of boy and elf.

He is a manoeuvring star - falling through the grasps of those eager to cage him in the confines of their design - a pretty pet, tamed from the wilderness of their blood and bone fortresses - but he fades out of this realm and into the other - giggling, bells and falling leaves, taking something from the light of day and the shine of stars with him when his footfalls don’t meet ground on this side of the veil.

They call him _Sweven_ \- a vision seen in sleep, a dreamlike mirage.

Until this day, trinkets are stolen and lost treasures returned, only if you leave him an equal payment by the sill of your window, where Jisung kisses the bone of your brow by twilight flicker and sings a lullaby of blessing, the talismans inked onto his skin sparkling in sleepless nights.

 

≿————-　❈　————-≾

 

Nobody, by that decree, knows _them._

And they want things to stay that way.

Eldritch - for those who do not know do not call forth any other name (how could they? Nobody expected Felix, a seemingly ordinary name for such a terrifying warrior) - is just Felix, _Felix my baby -_ to Jisung.

Born a day’s breath apart, it seems that Felix can never quite shake loose of that little sobriquet inked onto him just as permanently as the drawn talismans on Jisung’s skin.

Felix, with his armour bled from the starless skies, cured leather from the cores of dying star, mask out of lacquer, stripes of the nine tail fox and deep set cavities of eyes, burning bright gold. Felix, the baby to Jisung’s cooing and fussing.

The Eldritch unmasked is simply a youth - alabaster skin, comically short and stubby knuckles, sleep-addled eyes, a crown of knotted hair, that, if there be luck and fortune by the moonlight, the long strands would be woven into braids, tucked behind the mask before battle.

His eyes burn a searing taste of honey into Jisung’s palate - or descriptors of similar sentiments - Jisung pens endless songs and poems about the passions of the soul and body - and Felix residing at the centre of it all - the commissioners were not privy to any of this essentiality - and Jisung is not inclined to share.

He hoards sketches of Felix, unmasked, lounging by the pond of his home, soft lines under dawn’s whisperings, loose hair from its braids. Feet by the water, kicking water lilies and lotuses. Hoards these instances because he may last forever, but this will not - living forever teaches him long ago that ephemerality is ever more beautiful - so he creates and creates.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

 

Not a man of words, Felix does not know - does not know how to craft words and conjure music - of how the music haunts him, a symphony of everything past and future, all tangled in their midst. He parses the notes, the pauses, rising and falling of sounds, jumping by one scale to another, sliding and falling -

He does not hold enough of language in him to accurately sing to Jisung the magic of his arts.

Fingers pause by the instrument and that half of Jisung’s face is kissed by the shadow of the sun.

“Was it good?” He can see the smile that taunts mortals to insanity, the perfect control of everything he knows is true.

“What do you think?” He leans forward, elbow and wrist on the wooden table. Jisung turns completely, braids falling from the crown Felix clumsily weaved together.

“Won’t you indulge me in some lies, my dear?”

“You know very well that I cannot lie,” he rolls his eyes, fond. “Nor do I intend to not tell you the truth.”

Jisung grins, mouth curving in moon crescents. “Then tell me what you may.”

The truth is that he cannot speak for all that had transpired and it is a failing on his inability to communicate any comfort that he can conjure for Jisung. They fall back onto each other - everything and anything belonging to the two of them, two sides of the moon. Just as he can see Jisung’s brilliance, the luminescence he exudes, Jisung too can glimpse the calmness Felix is - they cannot look upon themselves. All the berating that Felix imposes upon himself and the clutches of doubt that hold Jisung - they hurt themselves and onto each other.

Felix does not have the phrases and words that will bring comfort for this lonely soul stuck in a perpetual state of frozen boyhood, of witnessing pasts speed by him and presents fleeing by and future just that unattainable - nothing stays permanent but them -

“It will live for long as it is played and you made it forever. It is beyond words. You are beyond words. I cannot phrase my feelings well I apolo-”

Jisung’s elbow slips off the pianoforte and feet kick off the ground and Felix catches him in a flurry of bird bones and star clipped smiles and if he could draw, he would paint this smile onto the very tapestry of the sky so it would shine, as it rightly deserves.

 

≿————-　❈　————-≾

 

Felix’s long hair is soothed out of its bristles and knots - Jisung is trying to the best of his abilities - the damned mask perching on the crown of Felix's head who tries to help manoeuvre strands and hair.

“Promise me you'll think about cutting it all off at some point,” Jisung grits and pulls several strands, hair coiling around his long fingers.

“And deprive you of opportunities to inconvenience yourself with untangling this mess? Now why would I do that?” He grins back and swallows the yelp that comes with Jisung's tug on his hair, scowl more prominent on his face.

“What a brat,” Jisung scolds him. “Turn around, let me attempt to plait this monstrosity. Heavens forbid I am to be comfortable, if ever, by your decree, Felix the Fox.”

Felix hides a smile with the twinkling of the stars, away from Jisung's eyes. He stands, back to Jisung, who weaves and fastens loops and bands of ribbons onto his mane, pulling and interlacing braids over one another.

“An elf is rifling through my hair,” he singsongs, all out of rhythm.

“An elf is going to cut all your hair if you do not silence yourself,” he bites back, no heat, no legitimacy in his words. As if he would sever the mane - it is a curtain of sinking sun alongside the coast of water, brimming so full and threatening to overwhelm land with its syrupy sweetness. He has an inkling - it is perhaps as he wears the runes of protection of the fae on his skin, Felix maintains the flowing mane of the elves - they are donning marks of one another, declaring loyalty unspoken but very much entrenched -

They belong to one another - and these are proofs of that.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so honoured to be able to scream alongside Lauren and to make this entire thing possible - even though it was super rushed and between the two of us, there was so much wasted time spent on screaming rather than actual work - we plan on expanding this Fantasy AU even further, so if you can, do support the both of us in what we do!
> 
> [The collab tweet](https://twitter.com/iIuminho/status/1040787508295073794)  
> [Find Lauren on Twitter](https://twitter.com/iIuminho)  
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jarofactonbell), [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/jenny_benny) and consider [the fact that I am poor and here is a kofi link](https://ko-fi.com/jarofactonbell)


End file.
